


following footsteps

by discountghost



Category: ATEEZ (Band), K-pop, ONEUS (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Attempt at Humor, Foot Fetish, Foot Jobs, Hand & Finger Kink, Hand Jobs, Kink Exploration, M/M, Semi-Public Sex, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-26
Updated: 2020-08-26
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:55:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26113762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/discountghost/pseuds/discountghost
Summary: “You ever think about how toes are just fingers for your feet?”“Yunho, I’m going to fucking hang up on you.”
Relationships: Jeong Yunho/Lee Keonhee, side ships mentioned
Comments: 1
Kudos: 25





	following footsteps

**Author's Note:**

> this was a fun commission! i hope i did the idea justice sodivhnsdiv  
> please enjoy the nonsense i have written!

“You ever think about how toes are just fingers for your feet?”

“Yunho, I’m going to fucking hang up on you.”

Yunho supposes that’s fair. But it doesn’t stop the whimper that leaves him. Hongjoong is gracious enough to sigh into the speaker, the sound crackly with his less than up to date phone. He wonders how long the other intends to “save money” by not getting a new one. He wonders how long he’s going to have these tabs open before he sheepishly clicks out of each one individually. He knows he has to do it before San gets home, and proceeds to pummel him. He wonders, now, if San is even coming home or if he intends to stay over at Geonhak’s to get the life fucked out of him like he keeps saying he will. It’s Yunho’s turn to sigh.

“I know everyone else is like two seconds away from beating your ass for this, but  _ please _ keep these thoughts to your freak twitter.”

“Freak twitter? Hyung, that’s what it’s called.”

“But you retweet freak shit and feet.” Okay,  _ fair. _ There is a fair amount of less than family-friendly content on his side twitter. “ I think that’s enough reason to call it freak twitter.”

Yunho sighs again, fiddles with his mouse to watch the cursor aimlessly float across his screen. His mind goes, mostly, blank as it begins tracing the outline of the toes in front of him. Perfectly manicured and maintained. A chill hits him and,  _ oh, _ that’s right: he’s still got his pants down to his thighs. He flushes, though there’s no one around to really see him. He isn’t too worried about being walked in on; there’s a sock on the door. Which, is usually supposed to be for when his other roommate Jongho decides he’s bringing his boyfriends over. Those three have...he wouldn’t say no manners, but the absolute shamelessness of the trio might as well be considered that on some occasions. He’s pulling up his pants, glancing at the door, when Hongjoong clears his throat.

“Please tell me you didn’t call me while you were jerking off.” His voice sounds high and whiny through the speaker.

His cheeks might be a little redder than before, but Hongjoong wouldn’t be able to see that, now would he? “Uh, no?”

“ _ Yunho—”  _ As much as he loves the older, he really doesn’t want to deal with another rant about this. Especially not after getting butt-dialed during one of the other’s dick appointments. If Yunho thinks about it,  _ he _ has been rather gracious.

“I wasn’t! I’d already finished.” The older sputters out something. “I was just pulling up my pants, geez.”

He’s sure there’s a language that Hongjoong is speaking right now somewhere in the world, but he doesn’t understand it. He lets the other air out his frustrations in words too quickly spoken to comprehend. Yunho loves Hongjoong, truly he does, but he doesn’t call him like this to torture him. Maybe a little. But for the most part it’s been over six months since Yunho had told the other that, hey, he might have a thing for feet. Specifically: Hongjoong’s feet. 

He can still remember the way the other gaped at him like it was yesterday. The already wide eyes getting wider and lips falling open. Then, the narrowing of said eyes as Hongjoong accosts him on  _ why him? _ Yeah, Yunho still doesn’t have much of an answer to that, and he doesn’t think he ever will have an idea of how to answer that. So he shrugs, as if he were answering Hongjoong now.

He definitely wouldn’t say that the other was overreacting. He has, in a way, felt like that when he’d first gotten into this stuff. But then he’s asked himself the same question he asked Hongjoong. It could very well be argued that toes are just fingers for the feet and people with hand fetishes aren’t so different from people with foot fetishes. Hongjoong hadn’t liked that so much the first time he said it. He blinks, looks out into open space for a moment before deciding that maybe he  _ should _ be on twitter. There’s a lot more quality content there, anyways.

“I’m kind of tired.” He maybe fakes a yawn, shuffling over to his bed. “I’m gonna head to bed.”

“Alright, Yunho.” Hongjoong lets out a yawn of his own. Isn’t there like a thing about people paying attention to you yawning? He smiles at the thought.

“Don’t stay up too late.”

“No promises.” His voice creaks like a chair with too much weight on it.

The line clicks off before he can remark that the other is in dire need of sleep, but then again — he  _ has  _ just lied to get him off the phone. He’s stuck with the guilt of enabling Hongjoong to keep watch over his music until the birds chirp in the morning. Not much he can do there.

At the very least, he does follow the advice of his hyung. It’s not  _ late _ late, but it’s late enough that he could find a uniquely after-hours twitter profile to enjoy. A late-night broadcast by someone lonely and sleep-deprived. He’s already logged on from when he’d pregamed his self-love session. His timeline is flooded with assorted pictures of various bodies in a further variety of states of undress. He flops down on the bed as he scrolls, eyes trained on the small screen in his hands. They trail the blurring pictures as they pass, looking for the little indicator that says “live” on it. No one’s streaming that he sees, and he sighs again.

He considers browsing around again. It has been a while since he’s followed any new content and he wonders if there’s been an addition to this side of twitter. There usually was, but not always in what he was specifically looking for. He shucks off his pants as he starts his search, sinks further into the bed. If he can’t find anything, sleep will find him first.

Maybe, though, someone up there is looking out for him. Because he thinks he’s struck gold with the third or so result of his search. He’s already clicked through the profiles that came before it and been sorely disappointed. The third time, apparently,  _ is _ the charm. It’s really just feet. Toes. But they’re pretty. Probably the prettiest he’s seen in a while and he went to the beach with Hongjoong the other day to help the older look for inspiration.

He has nothing distinctly profound to say about them. Mostly because he can’t  _ think _ aside from the fact that those are impressive toes. Nails manicured and cared for — was that a video of them opening a bag of chips? He wants to laugh. And might be a little horny again. So he  _ does _ laugh and he does slip his hands into his boxers to stroke himself absently while scrolling through the profile he’s come across. There aren’t any pictures of a person’s face, and he’s kind of sad about that. There’s got to be a pretty face to match pretty toes and he wonders if the person is simply shy.

There’s an artistry to a lot of the pictures. It reminds him of a hand model portfolio. But, like, for feet. Foot models were a thing, weren’t they? He blinks, squints at his screen because his vision has gone blurry. He can’t stay awake for much longer, but he wants to keep looking. 

San finds him in the morning, snoring softly with his phone dead by his face and his hand loosely splayed over his junk. His roommate also graciously wakes him by kicking at his bare ass where it peeks out of his boxers and covers.

“It’s...healthy to have interests.”

Yunho squints at this. Especially coming from Yeosang. Especially not when he’s cradling another doll he thinks San will like but hasn’t given to him yet because he relishes the feeling of San looking at him in disgust and wants to hold off on it. 

“I just...think you need to, like, hold off on telling everyone about them.”

Yunho scoffs. “I don’t tell everyone.”

“You’re always asking if toes are really that bad.”

“It’s a valid question.”

“The answer is usually the same. Insanity is doing the same thing over again and expecting different results.”

“Are you implying that  _ I’m _ insane?”

Yeosang cocks his head to the side. Yunho is very much  _ not _ a fan of how long this pause is. “No.”

“It sure feels like you are.”

“I’m just saying.” Yeosang shrugs, picks off nonexistent lint from the doll. He knows there’s nothing there because he also watched him clean it off before. “I’m just saying that maybe you should consider, like, finding another outlet for this interest.”

“If I have to then so do you.”

“This isn’t about me.”

Yeosang looks every bit like a petulant child. Sometimes it catches him off-guard. But then he remembers that he _ has _ walked in on Yeosang in a world of other expressions for reasons he doesn’t want to think about. He snuggles closer to the doll, tucks it under his chin and presses it close to his chest. He watches as Yeosang inhales quietly, shuts his eyes as his expression melts away to something like bliss. If he’s honest, he’s about 90% sure of what’s going on in his happy place and he’s 100% certain he wants no part in a full confirmation of what that is.

Instead, Yunho looks to his phone just as it dings and a notification pops up. The account he follows now — after he’d charged his phone, that was his first order of business — tweets regularly and he suspects some of them might be scheduled. But he doesn’t mind. Just more content for him. His brow raises as the tweet is something that looks like a standard promotion. Before he can really read what the notification says, his phone unlocks with his face and twitter is loading.

“Ew, another one?” San’s voice echoes out from the hall as he trudges in and Yeosang looks all too happy to see him. 

His expression brightens considerably. Yunho wonders if this is what it would be like if he could more openly embrace  _ his _ kink. Which, like most everything else, is subjective in how depraved someone sees it as. 

“Yeah, I got her just for you.” Yeosang’s fingers are hidden by his sweater as he approaches the other. Their arrangement is an easy one to accept. Yeosang does things in the hope of making San call him a variety of names, most of them unkind. He’s seen what the word  _ disgusting _ can do to Yeosang when it comes out of San’s mouth. “A friend of mine makes them.”

“Is he like you?” Yunho lets the question slip as San shoves Yeosang down, snatching the doll up to shove it into the bookcase he keeps the rest of Yeosang’s gifts in.

“Like me?”

“Uh.” Yunho blinks. “Does he, uh, get off to people calling him things, too?”

Yeosang considers the question. The other has been, well. He’s been more comfortable in his likes and dislikes for longer than Yunho. Yunho might even look up to him as a mentor. But he’s not too keen to admit to that. He fiddles with the strings of his sweatpants instead of thinking about it more than he should. 

“No.” The answer comes maybe a second later. “He’s more on the opposite side. Like — he gets off on humiliating others rather than being humiliated.”

“Does he ever do that for you?”

“Once, but like, neither of us vibed with it, y’know? Just didn’t fit.” He lets out a sigh and Yunho is again sure of what Yeosang would see as a right fit and he looks resolutely ahead at the tv as San saunters back into the room. “But he’s nice. Really friendly.”

“He seems good with his hands.” His stomach rolls a little as Yeosang nods, holds out his hand. 

“Gimme your phone. He has a twitter to show his work.”

Which is how Yunho ends up scrolling through twitter again. He might have something to say about how frequently he relies on the internet, but that could easily be a generalized statement of his generation. He winces at the thought, scrolls a little more.  Maybe he is plenty dependent on the internet to get his kicks, but he thinks that'll change. Eventually. At some point. He sighs as he leans and topples over on the couch. The cushions welcome him and he can almost forget that someone else's ass was on it. But for the fact that Yeosang wears a more than noticeable scent when he comes over with  _ intentions _ . But, his attention is easily redirected to his screen again. Sucks him right back into cyberspace to enjoy the content of Yeosang's friend.

Yunho has, it would seem, a terrible habit of humoring people. Maybe because they do the same for him. It's why he's pushing the door open to the shop for Yeosang. His not-kink-mentor. Yeah, he's never going to admit to that. Like ever. He licks his lips as he glances up at the storefront. Maybe he's going in  _ deep _ because he didn't think that this was...a kink. Again, he's only recently come into his own in all of this.

The bell chimes as they enter. A ding that sounds more like one of those counter bells than a door chime and he notes that the bell itself is dented. The twitter has not done the place justice. It looks - well, ethereal is one way to describe it. But it might just be because the first thing he sees is a person. He's propped up against a backdrop of flowers, various hues that all seem to work together. The little trinkets he's already used to seeing from the shop twitter are where they should be, lining shelves and walls. A little alcove to the side has the workbench that he's seen pictures of, doll parts strewn about. It's clear today, tools neatly lining the back wall. Yunho recalls taking a woodworking class in high school, but he's not sure dollmaking is as rough an image as what comes to mind.

The shop smells like vanilla and wood, mixed together unevenly to smell more of the artificial vanilla. The pungent layers of chemicals have been smothered down by freshly carved wood. It doesn't stop him from breathing in deep as Yeosang's voice singsongs a greeting. The backdrop rustles and Yunho freezes.

Upon further inspection - but still some distance away - the person against the backdrop is  _ not  _ a person. It's a doll, in fact. Lifesized and hyper-realistic. Whatever material it's made of looks a lot like skin, but the faint lines of where the finger joints connect are prominent. There's talent and then there's expertise, and Yunho thinks that this what expertise looks like. The man that pops up from behind the backdrop is whom Yunho assumes is the creator of the doll.

His hair is a fading blue and his smile wide. Might be on the side of too wide, but that can be forgiven by the way his eyes sparkle as he takes in the sight of others admiring his work. Yunho's stomach made does a weird swoop at that look. The other fully steps out and he's - limbs. Long limbs. Slender fingers and tiny waist. He's wearing slacks that exude the image of comfort and a sweater that probably feels just right with the cooler setting of the air conditioner in the store. He wonders if the other likes it this cold.

There is - it's  _ something. _ And it fills Yunho with a certain kind of dread that seems on brand with bad revelations in public. At least, for him. The other is harmlessly wearing sandals - no big deal; Yunho isn't a  _ child _ and he knows how to control himself. But he's seen these sandals before. He's seen those toes before and he's seen the pretty curve of the heel toward the ankle, the jut of bone. The way the sole arch slightly with the material of the sandals themselves. And he's seen it set to the green tones of the floral backdrop, with the fake flowers woven into the straps of the sandals. His stomach churns as the two friends talk.

His problem, at least in this moment, is a unique one. He's never had the terrible fortune of choosing between a simple greeting, or proclaiming that he follows the dollmaker's twitter where he sells pictures of his feet. And, to add on to that, that he's also  _ bought _ said pictures before. (Only like, two, but that's still  _ something _ ).

He offers up a weak, wobbling smile when the other turns his way.

"Keonhee, this is Yunho." Yeosang's voice is smooth and calm. Like how Yunho wants to be. His response to the introduction is a weak whimper that floods his cheeks with warmth. The other, Keonhee, laughs. Considers him a moment, and then smiles wider. As if that were  _ possible. _

"Nice to mee you, Yunho." His voice is sweet and lilting, and there's the edge of a tease to it. Maybe Yunho lets out another pathetic whine when he notices. Yeosang, though, doesn't seem to. Or maybe he just doesn't care and it's a facet of his friendship with the other. "I think you followed me on twitter?"

_Panic_. His chuckle is nervous and his tummy is rumbly, but he can't do much about that. "Yeah, I did." He hopes the words make it out okay.

"I appreciate that. An audience will help the shop grow." His voice still has that teasing note to it, and Yunho has to think about what twitter he might have followed the shop on. While he doesn't really  _ think _ it was the one he should be worried about, his fingers itch to double-check. "You want a tour?"

"Sure." Arguably, there isn't much to see that isn't displayed on the shop's social media, but he doesn't raise that point. In fact, he can't find any words to dispute the offer, because he's too busy trying to keep his eyes on the other's face and not his immaculate toes.

It's a short tour, at that. Shelves with products; Keonhee names each one of the dolls and then presents them with a sort of birth certificate that can be altered upon purchase. Some items are just spare parts that he offers. The larger models are propped up much the same way as the first doll that Yunho saw, but not with the same level of detail. He swallows as the other slides the green, artificially vined panel to the side to reveal a part of the shop he hasn't seen on twitter.

He's well aware that there are a  _ wide _ variety of kinks. Different strokes for different folks, and all that. But he's not sure he's ever factored dolls into the equation. As a fear? Yes. As something to rub off on? He reminds himself that inflatable sex dolls are an apparently very popular thing. It's most definitely not a dungeon he walks into, but it's slightly less bright than where he came from. It was, maybe, mood lighting because everything that seemed to be stored there certainly belongs in a particular type of dungeon.

He’s partly glad that the tour ends here. Partly, because he can stew in his thoughts while Yeosang and Keonhee chat about a commission he’s gotten with some interesting parameters.  He wonders, absently, if the dollmaker ever discusses his other business with Yeosang. They seem close, but maybe not that close.

Yunho’s only been made aware that a question has been asked when he feels eyes on him. Another small whimper leaves him involuntarily under the two gazes. “What?”

“Just asked if you were okay.” Yeosang’s brows have risen like he’s come to some sort of conclusion. “Are you?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” His voice comes out strained and he winces at the slight crack. Maybe he isn’t fine because his attention has dipped to Keonhee’s feet. A sliver of light has made it through the door, lands directly on the digits. It sets up a sort of aesthetic shot that the other might put on his twitter.

Yunho licks his lips. There’s something about shooting your shot going on in the back of his mind as his lips fall open on, “C-can I talk to you?” Yeosang blinks first, thinking it’s for him, but his gaze is on Keonhee and the other smiles agreeably.

“Okay.” One word, and yet it feels like Yunho is staring into the mouth of a gigantic beast in a level sixty-nine dungeon.

Yeosang, blessedly, catches on and makes himself relatively scarce. Lets them know that he’s just gonna browse the store. Yunho is sure he knows the place like the back of his hand. Which leaves him with Keonhee. In silence. He scratches at the back of his neck, mind formulating some sort of way to start this.

“You’re cuter in person.” Keonhee says it with so much certainty that Yunho is confused. Or, well, maybe he was confused to begin with. “Your twitter page doesn’t really do you justice.”

He blinks. Has to figure out  _ which twitter _ yet again. The other must see this mental struggle because he chuckles, cocks his head to the side as Yunho’s brows furrow.

“The one you bought an OnlyFans account with.”

_ Oh, well, fuck. _

Most of the time, Yunho could be mistaken for a bot on that account. Just — mindless retweeting so he can save images for later. But occasionally, he makes the drunken decision to post a picture of himself. His profile picture is one to showcase his hands because someone said it was his best feature once and maybe he’s a little vain. Just a little. He sucks in a breath as he finally connects the dots, with Keonhee’s help, and he wants to sink into the ground. The other  _ knows _ . 

"I wasn't really expecting to meet you." He's not sure if he says it, or if Keonhee says it, but it's the right sentiment. Yunho doesn't think, on all levels, that he'd ever meet an object of his affection.

This time, though, he  _ knows _ Keonhee is speaking. "You could actually make some money off those hands of yours, by the way."

"Really?" It's lost in a chuckle, but the word is clear enough. It sounds as surprised as Yunho is, coming from his mouth.

"Yeah,  _ really. _ Your fingers are like." He looks up and Keonhee is doing something with his own fingers as if to demonstrate the word he can't come up with. He gives up partway through, shakes his head with a groan. "They're lovely."

He would say that was an exaggeration if he wasn't at a loss for words already. Keonhee, telling  _ him _ his fingers looked lovely when the other's everything was lovely. Heat rises to his cheeks as the words replay themselves in his head. He could hear them on loop for hours. But he doesn't have that luxury, because his brain short-circuits a little at the next words to leave the other's mouth.

"I would pay you, like, big bucks to shove them in my mouth." The other shrugs, tilts his head to the side and sighs a little dreamily. He knows now why he's good friends with Yeosang. He doesn't hold anything back.

Yunho, though, chokes before he can respond and has to compose himself. He's never had anyone be  _ this _ direct with him. Maybe he's feeling a little confident. A touch of arrogance hitting him hard. His fingers lock around each other and just as the words apparate in his mind, they're out of his mouth.

"I mean. I could. Y'know. Shove them in your mouth. But like, uh, in exchange. For." He blinks. It's like he's having an out of body experience. "If I could see your feet."

"Deal." No hesitation. No consideration. Keonhee doesn't even seem phased by the fact that he's just been propositioned.

Yunho blinks again, and somehow they've got themselves in a weird configuration. The stool under his ass is less than comfortable, but it's just the right height for Keonhee's feet to lift up and press into his thighs with little strain from the other. He can also, blessedly, get his fingers into Keonhee's mouth (which is exactly as big as it looks and that alone sends a shudder down his spine). It's only been about a minute, but the slide of spit down his fingers is trailing to his wrist. Keonhee is sloppy, greedy and it feels like his fingers are about to be sucked right in. His free hand, the one not being devoured, rests easy on his lap. He's mostly too fascinated by the response the other is having to really do anything else, until he feels Keonhee's toes wiggle.

They're inching forward, toward his crotch. His jeans are being less comfortable by the minute, but he wasn't getting dressed earlier with the thought that this would be happening. He sucks in a breath as Keonhee's toes press into the bulge of crotch and maybe his eyes flutter close. It's a strange collection of sensations and rocks up into the contact with the softest whimper he's ever heard himself make.

Ordinarily, he would be embarrassed by the fact that he's trying so hard to get friction from Keonhee's foot lightly pressing into his crotch. But this is, decidedly, not an ordinary situation and he wants to keep it that way. He presses his lips together, eyes still closed as he tries to get his hands on his zipper.

"I goth zit." It's muffled, but still somewhat intelligible.

At first, Yunho isn't sure what he means. Keonhee nudges his hands away with one foot, then pushes back the flap over fabric over the zipper. The action is as deftly done as if he were doing it with his fingers, and maybe Yunho is at the point of losing his mind. Scratch that; he loses his mind when the other pulls down his fly with his toes, with ease. He licks his lips, glances up at Keonhee. The other just  _ winks _ and Yunho lets out a sound that's more strangled than any other sound he's made in a long time. The other presses down on his crotch again, over the bugle of his cock as he parts the fabric of his jeans further with the other foot. His toes look exceptionally nice against the dark color of his boxers.

This time, Yunho is fast enough to make this easy on himself as he gets his cock out. It's Keonhee's turn to choke, though he thinks it has more to do with him being overeager. His fingers go a little too far back as the other sucks him in further in time with his feet spreading Yunho's legs a little bit more. Yunho doesn't want to think it has anything to do with his dick.

"Wait, I have-" He doesn't finish the sentence. There's the loss of warmth as he pulls his fingers from the other's mouth. Keonhee whines and the sound goes straight to his dick. Which, makes the idea even more urgent as he wraps a spit-coated hand around his shaft and strokes himself to full harder. They're gonna be gross when this is over. But god, if he doesn't love it in the moment.

He hollows his cheeks, tries to fill his mouth with as much spit as possible. When he thinks he's gotten a sufficient amount, it lets it drop over his cock. Some of it trails down to Keonhee's toes as Yunho leans over a little to resume their previous position. The other scrunched up his nose at the feeling, but the expression fades as his hands work to his crotch. He can hear a zip being pulled down and a puff of air hits the back of his hand as Keonhee sighs through his nose.

Yunho really can't say he'd ever seen his day go like this. He shudders as Keonhee's foot touches his skin, works up his shaft slow. Yeah, he really fucking didn't see his day coming to this. The spit helps. The other makes a noise Yunho can't interpret as he presses his other foot to the side of Yunho's cock. It's a footsie sandwich and he might have laughed if he wasn't trying not to choke on a groan. He let his head drop forward as he hunchs over just a bit more, rocks his hips up into the hold the other has on him. His breathing is getting shakier by the second as heat coils into the pit of his stomach.

Another thing he would be embarrassed about. His own orgasm hits him hard, fast. Predictable for him, considering how long he's gone without someone touching him  _ and _ it's a pretty set of toes? He's surprised he's even lasted this long. He pauses as the other milks his cock, slender feet covered in his release. He whimpers until the other lets up, and then his free hand is over Keonhee's.

Keonhee seems every bit surprised by the action. Yunho pulls his hands from the other's mouth, uses it to slick each stroke on Keonhee's cock. It's about average size, if not a little on the skinny side. But it fits him perfectly. And it's kind of cute. Veiny, too. If this is anything to go by, Yunho thinks he'll have plenty of other chances to remark on that.

Above him is a collection of whispered praises that make his ears go red and his cock twitch weakly. Keonhee braces his hands on the bench he's been sitting on, the table rocking in time with his hips. The whispers get louder, turn into babbling that gets more frantic. The table knocks back into the wall with more force and Yunho watches, entranced. The other, though, hasn't looked up from where Yunho's hands work his cock, dip into his pants to fondle his balls. The few words he is able to string together turn into absolute nonsense as his eyes widen and his jaw slackens just a little. Yunho  _ feels _ the moment of release in time to lean back and just barely miss cum hitting him in the face. It splatters over his hands and Keonhee's pants.

Yeah, they're absolutely gross, but Keonhee looks devastatingly pretty. Skin glistening with sweat and cheeks flushed with the bliss of climax.

"Thanks." Yunho feels his confidence seep out of him as the other chuckles as his distress at having actually said that aloud. "You're not so bad yourself."

Maybe he feels a bit of confidence come back at that.

**Author's Note:**

> hopefully, you enjoyed reading this! thanks for making it this far lmao
> 
> [fic twt](https://twitter.com/discounthaunts) / [stan acc](https://twitter.com/discountghosts) / [cc](https://curiouscat.me/remeremerem)


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